


Jones and Williams

by kiddywonkus



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiddywonkus/pseuds/kiddywonkus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Gwen and Jack gone, Ianto finds he needs help taking care of Cardiff's huge rift in space and time. Enter his unlikely partnership with Rhys Williams.</p><p>Post Season 2, pre Children of Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rhys Williams was expecting a call from Gwen. Something along the lines of “sorry love, but I’m a bit caught up chasing aliens and I won’t make it home for tea”.  You know. Nothing out of the ordinary.

            Instead, he got a low, Welsh voice.

            “Rhys?”

            Rhys glanced at his phone. The Caller ID clearly said Lover Extraordinaire.

            “Who is this, and why do you have my wife’s phone?” he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice; trying to sound like someone you shouldn’t mess with.

            “It’s Ianto. I found her phone in her pocket.”

            _Oh bullocks_ , thought Rhys. “Where’s Gwen. Is she all right?

            “She’s fine, I think.”

            “What do you mean you think?”

            “She’s on a spaceship right now.”           

            “A spaceship?”

            “A peaceful one. It’s just that, I think she may be out of town for a bit.”

            That was Ianto Jones, Rhys thought. Captain of the understatement. He was the sort of man you’d want to get the news about the world ending from. “Things may be going a bit poorly from here on,” he’d say.

            “Well,” Rhys huffed impatiently, “how do we get her back?”

            There was silence on the other side.

            “Ianto?” pressed Rhys.

            “How would like to get a cup of coffee?”

 

* * *

 

            There was a time when Gwen Cooper had what some would term as “unresolved sexual tension” with her boss. That seemed like a hormonally-driven lifetime away now, and there was none of that as she sat shivering on the cool metal floor, trying very hard not to look at his immortal genitalia. Of all the things she had been through, she was surprised that this was the most awkward situation she had ever been in, and she had to wrestle a tentacle monster in the mud once.

            Ianto had taken pictures of that and sent them to Rhys. She tried for three hours to talk him down from that, and in the end almost resolved to use Retcon. Imagine, she thought, if he found out that she was sitting buck-naked with similarly undressed Jack on a spaceship.

            “Jack?” she called.

            “Hm?” was Jack’s response.

            “Where are we?”

            Jack sat up, not bothering to cover himself up.  “Looks like a spaceship.”

            “Well, I can see that. Why?”

            Jack raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Don’t know. Imagine we’ll figure it out soon, but judging by state of dress, it looks like it’s going to be sexy.”

            “Oh shut it, Jack.”

 

 

 * * *

            Of all the Torchwood members Rhys had known, Gwen was his favorite, and Jack his least, so he supposed that made Ianto all right. Sit-down-and-have-a-coffee-with all right? Well, he wasn’t really sure. All Rhys really knew about Ianto was that he was sleeping with the boss, and he didn’t really think that was a conversation starter. Bizarrely, he sort of wanted to show appreciation Ianto for that; a sort of “thanks for keeping Jack on the other side of the fence, mate”, but he also felt that would be a strange way to start a discussion.

            “Why do you have Gwen’s clothes?” Rhys sat down with his cup of coffee and an order of chips. It was as good of start of a chat as any.

            Ianto shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “Well, it seems that the transporter the aliens used only works with living material.”

            “Like Terminator?” Rhys asked, trying very hard to keep his voice steady; trying to sound like this was just another day in the life of a Torchwood husband. Sure, it may have been slightly unprecedented that Ianto had his wife’s clothing in a bag, and discussing how she was on spaceship performing some sort of ritual to keep an alien race from interfering in Earth affairs (or something like that, Rhys wasn’t paying attention very closely), but it wasn’t really _that_ out of the ordinary.

            She got married with an alien baby in her stomach, for Christ’s sake.

            Then Rhys saw a splash of blue underneath the red jacket she had been wearing on her way out that morning. Snatching the bag from next to Ianto’s chair, he grabbed the heavy, wool fabric. It was just as Rhys suspected: a big, blue great coat.

            “Jack’s also there?” He waved the coat around, and then threw it back into the bag. “Naked too, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

            Ianto coughed, took the offending piece of clothing and began to fold it. “As far as I know.”

            _Well, that was bloody well not okay_ , Rhys thought. That man had an almost supernatural ability to make people want him. Despite his three-piece suits, Rhys would have guessed Ianto was as straight as a Roman road until Gwen told him conspiratorially that the two were known to have sex in every nook and cranny of the Hub. She even caught them in Hot House, which was no surprise to Rhys. The thing was nothing but windows. But really, who knew what Jack’s good looks and pheromones would do when they were alone, and naked.

            “Try to look on the bright side,” Ianto supplied. “It means they’re alive.”

            To Rhys, that bright side was about as bright as a typical day in Cardiff.


	2. Chapter 2

            Jack was bored. Beyond bored. “Hey, Gwen?”

            “Yes, Jack?”

            “Still naked?”

            Gwen exhaled a long exasperated sigh. “Yes. You?”

            “Looks like. I wonder how long they’ll keep us in here?”

            Gwen didn’t answer, and Jack’s boredom returned.

 * * * 

            Ianto was not happy. He knew that Torchwood Glasgow operated with only one person, but it wasn’t on a huge rift in space in time, was it? Torchwood London didn’t have a rift in space and time either, and it had _over seven-hundred employees_. Trying to manage rift activity with three people was impossible. Trying to do it with one… well, he wasn’t sure how something could be more than impossible, but it was definitely that.

            In the space of twenty-four hours since Gwen and Jack had been peacefully abducted against their will, Ianto had three weevils, and a case of Denalarian space flu to quarantine. He was tired, he was hungry, and he had nasty cut on his arm that he was convinced was going to be infected.

            Three people were barely an island, and one man certainly wasn’t. It could be _Lord of the Flies_ for all Ianto cared so long as Jack hired someone. They were going to have words when Jack finally returned, and put his clothes back on. But that would probably only come after a roll in the hay, though Ianto wasn’t sure he’d have the energy, let alone be alive when Jack came back.

            Sighing, he picked up his phone and scanned his contacts. He had left Tosh and Owen’s name in there. He didn’t know why, just that he did. He paused on Tosh’s name, and then scrolled down. Finally, he chose a number and pressed send.

            “Hullo?” the voice sounded tired, but anxious.

            “Rhys?”

            “Is that Ianto? Did you find my wife?”

            “No. Not exactly.”

            “Then what is it? It’s not bad news, is it?”

            “No. I just haven’t had time to eat. I don’t suppose you could nip by with some sausage and chips, could you?”

            “You’re joking, right?”

            Ianto didn’t answer.

            “You’re not, are you?”

            Ianto sort of wished he were.

           * * *  

            Rhys descended into the Hub on the cold paving stone with a greasy paper bag and a frown. The ever-present rain of Cardiff came with him, making pitter-patter noises in the fountain pool below.

            “Don’t you have a front door?” Rhys grumbled, stepping off the stone and out of the rain.

            Ianto looked at him blearily. “Yeah.”

            “Why don’t you ever bloody use it?”

            Ianto had a few answers for that, the most relevant being that he was so tired that he couldn’t be bothered to go up three flights of stairs, and unlock three doors. Any other day, his answer would have been along the lines of an affronted, “this way is cooler”, but he couldn't even muster that.

            He only managed to say “Thanks”, before grabbing the soggy bag and tearing into it.

 * * * 

            It had been three days since Gwen had disappeared, and Ianto assured Rhys that it would be five days, three hours and twenty-four minutes more before she came home. He said something about that being equivalent to whatever a week was for the aliens (what did Ianto call them Lilliputians?), though they didn’t really have a concept of weeks in the way humans did.

            To be honest, he stopped listening when Ianto started yattering on about how arbitrary a week really was. All Rhys could think was, _imagine that, not having a nice Sunday lie-in._  

            Frankly, Rhys was sick of the phone calls and it had only been three days. “Rhys, we’re out of filters,” became “While you’re standing there, mind making a pot?”, which then became “This coffee tastes awful.”

            _How could it taste awful?_ He wondered. It was hot water run through crushed, dry beans. If hearing that still made you want it, how could it be bad? Whatever. He was just not going to take anymore of those calls.

            Of course, that was he thought last yesterday, but Ianto had managed to wire his number to come up in Rhys’ phone as Banana Boat once he realized Rhys was screening his calls. Cheeky bastard.

            Rhys, now was not only going to stop taking calls, but if he accidentally did, he was going to say no. Or, at least, he thought he would, until something beeped on the one of the monitors at the desk that belonged to the Japanese woman. Tosh, he remembered. They had gone out to dinner twice before Gwen came home after the Cardiff bombings, tears in her eyes. It had taken everything he had not to tell her to quit.

            He didn’t want to go near that desk.

            Ianto wandered over to it, still sipping the coffee he declared to be disgusting. “Right,” he muttered. “Better check it out.”

            Rhys didn’t want to look, but curiosity got the better of him. There, on a map of Cardiff, at the crossroads of Severus and Cowgate, was the dot.

            “Bloody hell,” he muttered.  “That’s Harwood’s.”


	3. Chapter 3

In the last three days, Gwen and Jack had to negotiate a peace with a fairly dull species. Jack had dealt with the aliens before, but nearly eight millennia in the future. The Lillapulians were one of Earth’s oldest allies, and by far the most useless. As the humans became more powerful, the Lillapulians became less, and they relied more and more on Earth’s protection. The last four wars of the previous century, or rather Jack’s previous century, were fought on their behalf.

            And it turned out that he would be the one to burden the future with their alliance. Funny how the history books never really mentioned his name, or Gwen’s.

            Jack had never successfully gotten a Lillapulian in bed, and it was ironic that once he was naked in their presence, somehow the chances had gone down.

            Still, they were peaceful, and Jack knew full well that their planet was filled with some very useful resources that Earth wouldn’t even know how to use until at least a millennium later. Who would have known that he would be the one securing them?

            It felt sort of good, really. After all the shit Torchwood had a tendency to put him through, lounging around naked on a ship doing something that was going to be a good thing was a welcome change.  It would have been a much more welcome change if Ianto was there naked with him, seeing Gwen was dead set on keeping her 20th century mindset which now included monogamy. Dimly, he wondered how his… not-boyfriend, but pretty much his boyfriend, was doing. 

* * *

            After the incident with the space whale, Rhys wasn’t exactly sure if you wouldn’t be sorry with a Harwood’s lorry. And after the incident with the stolen refrigerators, which he would later learn was actually him due to weird lapse in timelines, he was almost positive. Why so many weird things had to center around his job, he really didn’t know.

            But really, it begged a bizarre chicken and egg sort of question. Did weird things never happen before Gwen got her job with Torchwood? Or did he just not notice them until she starting working for them?

            Rhys felt like he was stealing into Harwood’s like a thief in the night, something which Ianto didn’t really help much by pulling up to the gates in his black SUV, and emerging from it in a long dark, wool coat. The man only needed a pair of sunglasses to complete the look.

            In Ianto’s hands was some sort device that Rhys assumed was very high tech. It was Torchwood, after all. Rhys fumbled with the keys a bit as he got the office door open, and he nearly dropped them when he saw the state of the office.

            His office had never been clean by any stretch of the imagination, but it looked like every tornado from America had decided to pay the place a visit.

            “What the hell?”

            Ianto shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s gone.”

            “What do we do now?”

            Ianto wiped a tired hand over his eyes and rubbed his brow. “I suppose we just leave it.”

            “What about evidence?”

            “I don’t even know what came through. I wouldn’t know what I’m looking for.”

            “So something comes through the great bloody time warp and since you don’t know if it’s a two headed alien or a piece of space poo, you’re just not going to look into it?”

            Ianto’s stomach grumbled. “That’s about it, yeah.”

            Rhys could nothing but stare at Ianto.

            “Not to be rude, Rhys,” Ianto continued, “but if I were you, I would want to be as far away from here as possible so you don’t have to worry about the cleanup. Let your assistant come in and call the cops, and then all you have to do is waltz into work and assure people everything will be okay.”

            Rhys hated to admit it, but Ianto had a point. So he let Ianto take him home, where he promptly fell asleep. He got the phone call at eight o’clock, Ruth’s shrill voice coming over his mobile.

            “Rhys! We’ve been robbed! The whole place is a mess!”

 * * *

            Rhys was having a right bad week. His wife had been abducted by aliens, her coworker seemed to think he would work probono in her absence, he had to pretend like he didn’t know what happened at Harwood’s, and the cop they had sent over to investigate the “break-in” was the man who couldn’t quite get over the fact his wife chose Rhys over him.

            Overwhelmed as he was that Gwen would ever want to be with someone like himself, he still considered himself a mite better than PC Andy Davidson. Rhys may have been slightly heavy set, but he wasn’t a ginger, and he thought that counted for an awful lot.

            “Any motive?” asked Andy, his already high-pitched voice going up a notch.

            “Come off it,” Rhys moaned, “what motive would there be to trash the office? There isn’t money is there?”

            “Perhaps someone was sorry that they got a Harwood’s lorry?” suggested Andy coolly.

            _Smug bastard_ , spat Rhys inwardly.

            Ruth looked shook up, but Rhys supposed that only made sense. Her desk was the one that took the brunt of the destruction. She asked to be excused just as Rhys’ phone rang.

            Banana Boat, it read.

            Dismissively, Rhys waved his hand at Ruth.

            “Hello?”

            “Does the address 44C Ty-Nant Court mean anything to you?”

            Rhys hung his head and grimaced. It figured it would be Ianto Jones.

            Rhys repeated the address questioningly, and Ruth paused at the door. “Doesn’t mean anything to me, mate. Why?”

            “More rift activity. The address is missing from the Torchwood databases too.”

            Rhys groaned, “hold on second”, and put his hand over the phone as he sneaked past Ruth and out into the hallway. “Now look, mate” he said in a hushed voice, “I’ve has just enough rifts and aliens today. I’m tired, and I’ve got a right mess to clean up, and if you call again to bring you sodding coffee filters at three in the morning, Torchwood is going to be a non-entity until Jack and Gwen get back.”

            He hung up, pushing his thumb down more forcefully than was strictly necessary. The next thing he knew, he was pressed against the wall with superhuman strength.

            “What does 44C Ty-Nant Court got to do with you?” his assailant hissed.

            Rhys didn’t want to believe who he was looking at first, but it was hard to deny it. His attacker was his overweight, gossiping secretary, Ruth.


	4. Chapter 4

Ianto had gone to investigate the mysterious address, exhausted though he was. He wondered if he should wait until Jack got back, but decided against it. They were so understaffed that it hardly mattered. He probably would have had to investigate this alone even if Jack and Gwen were there.

            Before he even reached the door, though, Ianto knew the two rift spikes were related. The door had been smashed in, and when Ianto cautiously peeked in, he could see the inside thrown in a similar disarray to Harwood’s.

            Just as he was about to enter, gun poised, a sort of annoying Welsh voice drifted through the air. “I would stop if I were you.”

            Ianto did, cursing himself for letting himself be caught off guard, and turned slowly to face whoever it was, not expecting to see a sort of dowdy woman who looked older than she really was holding Rhys by the throat.

            “Who sent you?” she demanded.

            “No one,” Ianto said, keeping his gun aimed.

            The woman’s grip on Rhys tightened, and he heard the man make some unpleasant gurgling noises. If Jack were there, he probably would have made a joke about Rhys sounding like pig and for the first time this week, Ianto was grateful Jack wasn’t there.

            “Who do you work for?” the woman asked, her voice menacingly low.

            Ianto didn’t answer.

            “Just bloody tell her, man,” Rhys choked out.

            Ianto didn’t break eye contact, or lower his gun. “Torchwood.”

            “You expect me to believe that nonsense? Torhwood is supposed to be protecting me.”

            “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

            “The woman whose house you were caught breaking and entering into.”

            Ianto glanced at the door, and weighed whether or not he wanted to quibble about semantics. After all, he hadn’t done any breaking or entering yet. Noticing that that the woman’s grip had slackened slightly, he decided not to push his luck.

            “Ruth, would you just let me go,” pleaded Rhys. “He’s Torchwood.”

            “Jack never mentioned either of you.”

            “How do you know Jack?” Ianto asked.

            “Oh right, you think you’re so bloody clever, do you? Pretending like you don’t know what’s going on so I can explain. I’m the daughter of the Goiflig Mob Don. I know how it works.”

            Ianto raised his eyebrows, unwilling to point out inconsistencies in what she said. He had barely said two words, and he already knew a lot more than he should have. Why did aliens always think humans were so stupid?

 

* * *

 

            Gwen was sitting in a vat of green liquid, still naked, listening to a Lillapullian sing in tones that didn’t make sense to her at all. At least she thought it was singing. It was hard to tell. It was more like an intoning sort of caterwaul; smooth enough to not be jarring, but strange enough to keep her off kilter. No one told her why she was bathing with a Lillapullian, and she chose not to question it.

            Jack had said that everything they did had a reason, and it would take him months to explain just one thing. “Just go with it,” he had said.

            Well that was easy for him to say. He was probably enjoying being naked, languishing in a pool of green slime that vaguely smelled of maple syrup, bananas, and old leather.

            Gwen wrinkled her nose, and sighed in resignation when they motioned for her to dunk her head. She didn’t even want to know how long it was going to take to wash the green gunk out of her hair.

 

* * *

           

            “Excuse me,” came a voice that Rhys thought was a little bit too familiar. He wished Ruth would let go of his throat so he could see. His body jerked slightly while Ruth turned her head.

            “What are you doing here?” asked Ianto, his eyes leveled on the interloper behind Rhys.

            “Well, I got a call about suspicious activity you see, and a possible break in, and since I was in the area and all...”

            Rhys tried to judge whether he should be worried based Ianto’s reaction, which seemed to be just blearily bewildered. No help there. He blinked once, and nodded at Rhys while Ruth was looking the other way and strode forward with something that looked like a can of mace in his hand. Before Ruth could do anything, he sprayed it into her face, and she howled as she dropped to the ground, clutching her at her eyes.

            Without really thinking, Rhys rolled away, his hands also going up to his eyes. Whatever Ianto had sprayed wafted towards him, and parts of his face burned.

            “Watch it, man!” Rhys yelled, unsteadily getting up, and then pitching forward dizzily.

            The man who had interrupted them walked towards Ruth and Rhys realized why the voice seemed familiar. Blurry though he was, it was PC Andy.

            “What are you doing here?” he groaned. Before he blacked out.


	5. Chapter 5

           Andy didn’t really dislike Rhys as much as he pretended, which is not to say that he didn’t dislike the man. It still didn’t figure how Gwen would blow him off for the fat lorry driver, but there it was. The wedding band on Rhys’ finger was as good of evidence of that as any. He tried not to be bitter about it, but it was Gwen Cooper, wasn’t it? Any man would be lucky to have a chance with her. A little jealousy was definitely in order, and what better way to handle the green-eyed monster than to let it have a go at its target.

            Still, despite just saving Rhys’ life, he had half a mind to get rid of him. Ianto had made him help push Ruth’s body into the back of the SUV, and then help maneuver Rhys into the backseat. They were both heavy people, and PC Andy hated to admit that he was feeling a bit knackered after the exercise. Also, their collective groaning was putting his teeth on edge.

            “Why are you here?” asked Ianto, brushing his gloves off on his coat.

            Andy jerked his head at boot of the SUV. “I saw the secretary make off with tubby here and decided that given her size, it wasn’t very likely she could be a human and do that, so I followed them. Thought it might be one of your spooky-dos.”

            Ianto nodded at him, and then got into the car. Andy made to follow him, but the car drove off before he could get in the passenger seat.

            “Right,” muttered PC Andy. “Bloody Torchwood.”

* * *

            Ianto had only driven a hundred feet down the road before he remembered that Jack and Gwen were naked on a spaceship, and he was taking care of a giant rift in space in time by himself. He slammed on the brakes, causing Rhys to fly forward and get wedged between the seats, and waited for Andy to cautiously walk up to the SUV.

            “Need anything else?” Andy said, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms across his neon yellow jacket.

            “Get in,” was all Ianto could really manage, and Andy, taken aback for only a split second, complied with a little more alacrity than was necessary.

Ianto wasn’t feeling particularly creative when he put Ruth down in the vaults, her cell in full view of Darlene, Torchwood’s most intimidating weevil. It was a typical tactic, really. As much of a pain catching weevils were, they were surprisingly helpful in getting information.

            Fortunately, Andy was there to help him drag Ruth’s body to the cells and Rhys’ to the couch.

            “So where’s Mister Universe?” Andy asked, sitting down in the chair that used to be Owen’s, wiping sweat from his brow.

            “On a spaceship,” replied Ianto, noting that Andy didn’t seem too surprised by this.

            “And what about Gwen?”

            “Same.”

            “So you mean to tell me that Torchwood has an employee complement of one?”

            Ianto side-eyed the couch.

            Andy followed his gaze, and openly stared at Rhys’ prone figure. “You’re joking, right?”

            Shrugging his shoulders, Ianto rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s proven useful before.”

            “You know, I actually have training in this sort of thing. Well, not aliens, really, but I do manhandle drunkards on a nightly basis. And one time, a Roman soldier. I reckon I could take Zordon of the Planet Spookie, or whatever else you do.”

            “Gwen doesn’t want you hurt?” Ianto had tried not to make it sound like a question, but couldn’t. He didn’t really understand why they wouldn’t poach Andy from the police force. After all, the man had proven resourceful in the past, and didn’t really seem to be that freaked out about the existence of aliens. Though he hated to think such things, Ianto almost wondered if Andy just wasn’t good-looking enough.

            “Right, so she’ll protect me, but let her husband in on the alien action.” Andy folded his arms across his chest, and looked disbelievingly at Ianto.           

            Ianto didn’t answer at first. He just leaned back in his chair and tiredly rubbed his eyes.  “Look, you want to be Torchwood or no?”

            Andy pursed his lips, and the slowly nodded.

            “Right. You keep watch in here, and I’m going to get a little sleep. If Rhys wakes up, make sure he drinks a lot of water and takes a shower.”

            “Not that glamorous, this job. Is it?”

            Ianto almost said, “you have no idea”, but decided to shrug instead. He and Andy could have a heart-to-heart about how truly unglamorous Torchwood really was later. Andy didn’t know about how he had to detail the SUV because Jack had forgot an alien plant exploded when it was agitated and it covered both them and the interior of the SUV with orange slime, or that one time, he and Gwen had to coax a Aztec priest from the fourteenth century out of a tree.

            That same Aztec priest had somehow gotten out of his cell and tried to sacrifice a Hoix to its gods. He, naturally, did not survive the encounter, and they didn’t have to feed the Hoix for at least a few hours after.

            Even with that grim thought in mind, Ianto fell immediately asleep the second his head touched the pillow. It smelt of Jack, and in his tired state, he could almost imagine the man was there.

 * * *

            Rhys had woken up with a headache like he had just gone a bender. He felt awful. Of course, it didn’t help much that first thing he saw was Andy’s grinning face, holding a dirty tumbler filled with water. Blurry though his vision was, he recognized that hair anywhere.

            “Ianto says you should drink this,” said Andy at what Rhys felt was a vindictively high decibel.

            If the headache hadn’t been so awful, Rhys might have thought twice about listening to Ianto. What he had learned about in the short time he has known about Torchwood was that drinks proffered by an agent we’re not to be trusted. Gwen had told him all about Retcon, and he was not too proud to admit that from time to time he was genuinely paranoid that she may have already given him. He also knew that there was far more than Retcon to be worried about. Gwen told him they once had a pill that gave you an erection that didn't go away for hours. It was actually a sort of aspirin for a race of aliens that sounded like talking jellyfish, but on humans… the effects of it were definitely different. It did not surprise him in the least that Owen had tried it, but Rhys had always had an irrational hatred of the man. He could never quite put his finger on it, and he always tried not to show it, but the only grief he felt for Owen’s death lay in how hurt Gwen was.

            But the thoughts were getting to arduous for him to go any further with them. Instead, he sat up and stretched out a plaintive hand. Andy handed him the sort of sticky glass and he gulped the water down.

            Almost instantly, the pressure in his had started to dissipated. His vision, however, had not markedly improved.

            “Where’s the fearless leader?” Rhys asked when he finally felt like he could speak without splitting his head open.

            “He went down into a hole for a bit of lie down.”

            “How long?”

            “An hour maybe.”

            “And what have you been doing? Not watching me sleep, I hope.”

            Andy glanced guiltily at the computer screen on what looked like Gwen’s desk. It was flashing in and oranges and reds, though he couldn’t make out what the message read. “Exploring the computer systems. I am obviously not a talented hacker.”

            “I’ll say,” grinned Rhys.

            “Right, like you could get into this. This is higher level security than MI5, I’ll bet. I spend most of my day handing out parking tickets. Can’t hardly expect me to crack it.”

            Rhys shrugged, and typed Gwen’s personal computer password in. Instantly, the screen turned blue, and her desktop showed up.

            “What were you looking for?” Rhys settled into the chair next to Andy, and leaned back with exaggerated casualness, still opening and closing his eyes owlishly, as if blinking was magically going to make his vision a little clearer.

            “I want to know who Ruth is.”

            “You don’t need a computer for that,” Rhys scoffed. “She’s my secretary. Nothing more.”

            “A secretary that took you hostage, and threatened to rip your throat out. You’re right. No cause for concern then. Didn’t you hear her say she was a Goiflig Mob Don?”

            Rhys scratched his head. “Sort of had other things on my mind.”           

            “Like food, I’ll bet,” cut Andy, typing in the world Goiflig into the search function he had found.

            “Oi,” Rhys started, but he was distracted as the results popped on the screen. Pictures of translucent blobs, all of which had signs with numbers nestled into the gook, like a prison photo for Play-doh. “What’s that?”

            “A Goiflig?” Andy dragged the mouse over and clicked on a link next to Species labeled Drasdv. Quickly, Andy’s eyes scanned the screen. “No. A Drasdv. The Goiflig are a Drasdv family… Apparently, they are a race of shapeshifters.”

            “A shapeshifter? Ruth?” Rhys exclaimed disbelievingly. “And she chose to look like that?”

            “Maybe it takes a lot of talent?” Andy pondered, his mouse clicking on another link. “Guess when they started meeting other species, they realized how unique their talent was and started getting into organized crime. Families emerged. Goiflig is one of them.”

            “So why is she here and tearing up offices?”

            “I suppose we’ll have to ask her.”


	6. Chapter 6

           Rhys had started moaning the second he stubbed his toe on the desk getting out of the chair, muttering something about how he couldn’t see so well. Andy didn’t really think much of it until the fat bastard ran into a doorjamb. Head on. It was glorious, really. The stuff youtube videos were made of.

            It stopped being funny, however, when Rhys said he couldn’t see at all.

            “What do you mean you can’t see?” Andy asked.

            “What else could I mean, man?” groaned Rhys.

            “Right.” Andy stared at Rhys, who was sitting up against a brick wall, trying to figure out what to do. “Right.”

            “Go get Ianto,” Rhys suggested with a plaintive whine that sounded a little bit too judgey for Andy’s tastes.

            “Right,” he said again, and ran back towards the Hub.

            He found Ianto laying flat on his stomach, cradling a pillow at the bottom of the hole that he had disappeared into earlier.

            “Sorry?” Andy called down. “Ianto?”

            Ianto’s body jerked, a small cry escaping his lungs as he turned around to face whatever had woken him up.

            Self-consciously, Andy put up a hand and waved. “Good morning.” It was two past midnight, but Andy figured that was close enough.

            “What?” Ianto grunted as he wiped a hand across his eyes.

            “It’s Rhys. He’s gone a bit… well… blind.”

            Ianto blinked at him, obviously not yet awake. “What, even after the shower?”

            “He needed a shower?”

            “I thought I was pretty explicit in my instructions.”

            “I thought you meant that for the smell. I didn’t think it was dire,” defended Andy.

            Ianto smoothed his wrinkled blouse as best he could, and made his way towards the ladder.

            “Next time,” Andy continued, “how about you put it on a sticky note with a big star next to it saying ‘not negotiable’?”

            Ianto didn’t answer as he climbed up to the office Andy sort of assumed was Jack’s. “Where is he?”

            “I dunno. One dank hallway here looks just as the same as the next.”

            “Right.” With one last wipe of his hand over his eyes, Ianto strode out of the office and headed down into the vaults. Andy followed behind, keen to kill the silence he felt was phenomenally awkward, but not really sure where to start.

            They found Rhys curled up in a ball against he wall, still moaning.  “Rhys. It’s me. We’re going to have to get you into a shower.”

            Something in what he said spooked Rhys. “No!” he cried out, as his arms flailed. “I know what happens here at Torchwood. I am married man, for god’s sakes!”

            Andy’s mouth opened and refused to shut, and Ianto shook his head as they looked at one another. Cleary, neither one of them had any clue what he was talking about. What they did know was the Rhys was not particularly eager to go with them, so they had man-handle him upright, and then drag him to wherever the showers were, all the while Rhys yelling about not being seduced by Torchwood.

            “You were straight, man!” Rhys said as they tossed him into what looked like a communal shower. Andy looked about the stained tile walls with open disappointment. He’d thought a top secret organization would have a bit fancier facilities… or at least private shower stalls.

            For his part, Ianto was trying to ignore Rhys’ nonsensical rant. Andy tried to move in and remove his leather jacket, but Rhys began to thrash wildly.  “No! Clothes stay on. Not going to let Torchwood turn me. Gwen! GWEN!”

            “Have you got any idea what he’s talking about?” Andy asked, holding Rhys while Ianto moved for the shower handle. The spray of water hit all three of them.

            “I think he thinks Jack turned me gay,” responded Ianto calmly, diving to keep Rhys upright while Andy slipped and fell to one knee.

            "Gwen! I love Gwen!" screamed Rhys.

           Andy couldn’t help but stare incredulously up at the humorless Ianto. “Seriously?”

            “He’s not really thinking straight right now, so I’m not going to hold it against him,” grunted Ianto as Rhys slowly stopped struggling. “But in a way, he’s sort of right.”

            As the water ran, Rhys' movements lost their violence until finally he sagged in Ianto's arms. Andy got up to help hold the almost unconcious man standing, upset that his clothes were getting wet, but feeling worse for Ianto’s three piece suit. It hardly looked dapper when it was clinging to his body aat weird angles, and dripping on the tile.

            “Always knew I liked both, but never really let myself act on it," Ianto explained, his eyes focused on the floor. "These days, either you’re straight, or you’re gay. In between doesn’t cut it on either side. I was lucky, though. I had Lisa so I didn’t have to think about it...” then Ianto got quiet, “until she died. Torchwood does things like that to you, Andy. It makes you face yourself.”

            It was an unexpected heart-to-heart, and Andy could only attribute it to the man being tired. But then again, it wasn’t like he knew Ianto all that well. Maybe this was typical of him. Not likely, though.

             The three of them stood, soaked in Torchwood’s communal shower, and Andy couldn’t help but wonder if Torchwood was going to make him face the man he really was.

 

 

* * *

            Gwen was not to know her husband’s leather jacket, the one she had bought for him after he helped infiltrate the warehouse with the space whale, was ruined. Buying it for him was her way of saying, “you, Rhys Williams, are bad ass and I love you”. It would be a toss up, really, whether or not she’d laugh or be livid about how his jacket had bit the dust… or more accurately, bit the wet, moldy tile.

            But really,  though clothing was the first thing on Gwen’s mind, it wasn’t Rhys’ that she was thinking about. It was hers. Clothing meant freedom from the horrid boredom of the ship, and being away from Jack’s eyes. The man just couldn’t bloody help himself, and she’d take it more of a compliment if she didn’t know for a fact he would romance a Sontaran sober.

            Really, though, she missed her bra the most. Used to be that she was excited to let her breasts free after a long day of running after aliens. Now, when she walked too fast, or had to do some weird exercise that involved bouncing for the sake of intergalatic peace, all she could think about-- no, dream about-- was a sports bra.

 

* * *

            Rhys had been able to see for the better part of an hour, but was still soaked through, and lounging on the couch, probably inviting all sorts of mold, demanding that he help interrogate Ruth.

            “It would be like good cop, bad cop,” argued Rhys, the crook of his elbow resting over his eyes.

            “Don’t you mean bad cop, fat cop?” sniped Andy. Ianto ignored the implication that he was bad one. Though, he frowned, he _had_ put on some extra pounds lately. He could very well been the fat one.

            “Oi!” Rhys objected. “She knows me. She trusts me.”

            Ianto only relented to shut the man up, and took the two unlikely Torchwood employees that he hadn’t quite decided whether or not he was going to retcon at the end of the week down with him into the vaults.

            Andy was wearing Jack’s clothes with a belt cinched tightly around his waist, and a pair of suspenders for good measure. He was just a little to wide to fit into Ianto’s clothes, for which Ianto was slightly grateful. He wasn’t particularly convinced that Andy would be able to take good care of his bespoke clothing.

            As they walked, Andy briefed him on the Goiflig, and he nodded his head to make it look like it was all new information. He knew what a Goiflig was. What he didn’t know was why Ruth’s address was stricken from the Torchwood archives, and why she knew Jack at all.

            When Ruth wasn’t in her cell, Ianto didn’t panic. He noted that the floor in her cell seemed slightly higher than what he was standing on, folded his arms, and spoke. “I know you’re in there, Ruth. I need to ask you some questions.”

            The floor bubbled huffily, and amassed into the Rhys’ secretary.

            “You’re not getting anything from me,” she sneered as she sat down on the bench.

            “You see that?” Ianto jerked his thumb backwards towards the cell. “You could be sharing a cell with that.”

            “I’m not scared of a weevil,” she sniffed after leaning over and glancing through the dirty window.

            “Fine." Ianto relented, trying not to be dissapointed in his tried-and-true tactic failing. "I’ll tell you what you should be scared of.”

            Ruth arched an eyebrow, and turned her plump face to him.

            “Whatever’s after you?" Ianto continued. "It found you twice already. You’re safe for now. What happens when I let you out?”

            “For all I know, you’re the one after me.”

            “Why would I be?”

            “I’m a Goiflig. Any idiot would know I have enemies.”

            Ianto stood still for a moment, trying to figure out where to go with this. “How do you know Jack?” he decided to ask, figuring a chance in tactics was warranted.

            Ruth sat stock still, her eyes fixed on the brick wall on the other the side or her cell.

            “I ask because you know Jack. We also know Jack. We are Torchwood.”

             "Jack never said anything about you. I don't care if you are Torchwood. I can only trust Jack," Ruth said without looking up.

            “That’s just stupid,” Rhys cut in. “Ianto’s Jack’s… what are you mate? Boyfriend?”

            Awkwardly, Ianto coughed. This was not something he really wanted to get into with anyone, let alone in front of a prisoner. He had a hard enough time trying to figure out he and Jack were to each other without having to verbalize it.

            Rhys carried on. “Look, Ruth. You know me, and I can guarantee you that if you think Jack is a good guy, you have to think Ianto is one too seeing as he is regularly doing the horizontal tango with him!”

            Ianto tried to keep his mouth from hanging open, but to no notable success.  The quiet that hung in the room was awkward, as if Ruth, too, was taken aback by her boss’ reasoning. It made sense, Ianto supposed, in a twisted way. But having phrased so was…

            To his credit, Andy tried to step in an alleviate tension but leveling his eyes on Rhys. “How long does the weevil spray affect the brain?”

            Ianto would have said “not this long”, but just as he was about to answer when a low rumbling penetrated the quiet. Sheepishly, Ianto looked down at his stomach. “Right. Um, who likes pizza?”


End file.
